L'arrivo di Emily Wolfe

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Con le lacrime di gioia e le risate che risuonavano fuori dalla suite VIP dell'ospedale privato, il piccolo che la famiglia Wolfe stava aspettando era finalmente arrivato!
Alexander Wolfe guardò la bambina tra le braccia e poi la fragile moglie che giaceva accanto a lui, i suoi occhi si riempirono di lacrime di eccitazione e la sua voce tremò mentre diceva: "Liz, vedo, nostra figlia!".
A Elizabeth Davis non importava più nulla di suo marito, dopotutto aveva ripetuto questa frase centinaia di volte e le sue orecchie si stavano facendo callose a forza di sentirla.
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Elizabeth prese la sua bambina dalle braccia di Alexander, le accarezzò delicatamente il viso con la mano e disse dolcemente: "Chiamiamola Emily".
Emily Wolfe, a poche ore di vita, non sapeva in che tipo di famiglia fosse nata. Elizabeth, invece, era felice del nome.
"Alexander, mi sembra che la piccola stia sorridendo!".
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I due si limitarono a guardare Emily con un'espressione di attesa, desiderosi di vederla sorridere di più, mentre Emily ritrasse frettolosamente la sua espressione.
Ricordava le sue prime nove vite e sapeva esattamente come interpretare il ruolo di un bambino normale. Essere una bambina era noioso, ma naturalmente non poteva essere trattata come un mostro come nella sua vita precedente.
Sebbene Emily desiderasse ardentemente crescere come una persona normale, la sua famiglia non sembrava essere così normale ......
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Il giorno del ricevimento della luna piena, Alexander inviò un rubino rosso sangue, che Emily aveva già visto nella sua vita precedente e che valeva circa otto cifre. ......
È una vita di lusso che implora una vita di lusso.
Per di più, l'amore naturale di Emily per le cose luccicanti, Ruby in mano non riesce a metterlo giù, anche se è ancora una bambina, ma la natura del ventaglio di ricchezze sembra essersi rivelata.
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Per essere precisi, erano due, uno dei quali si trovava all'estero ed Emily non lo capiva e non lo aveva mai incontrato. L'altro si chiama James Wolfe, avrà tre anni l'anno prossimo e starà tutto il giorno intorno alla sua culla a dondolare, facendo un sacco di rumore e di mal di testa.
"Domani sarà di nuovo nella sua culla prima dell'alba".
Aspettate un attimo! Perché quel ragazzo è venuto qui prima dell'alba? ! Emily rimase un attimo confusa.
"Emqily&, soFnoW svebgtlAiaj?".
James allungò la mano e punzecchiò il viso di Emily, guardandola con piacere.
Gli piaceva molto questa sorella più giovane di lui, il viso rosa faceva sempre venire voglia di pizzicarla.
Emily non volle prestargli molta attenzione, la testa inclinata, gli occhi chiusi, fingendo di riaddormentarsi.
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Sheng Evening Night è nata più di un mese fa e per la prima volta ha provato paura.
"Smettila, piccoletto! Quanti anni hai? Non sai nemmeno camminare bene!".
Questo ragazzo stava cercando di abbracciarla, voleva forse porre fine alla sua breve vita?
A rSChZenbgv EGvaeninkg! jNiAg!htc nkoFn immpkorAtauva. gcxheg SfOoWsis!e unDaU LbóazmbAinóak, KscoqssMeh trahpkidamJengte WléaL tqes!taK pe rifxiutMòg.x Mia SxheWnIgx XJuuan Mki&ngy Psemb_raGvaY ahvJerae Fuhna c*eWcitàY sTe!lettJiyva, VlRa vpKrwebn'dRevaY cjom.e dse f,oJsshe u'nAa *bambUoula Jd&iN dqueS wp$e(sSi _eG édfuWe VmnizsBurFeP. (LHa htzaGrdra nostjt_e nKoxn riescje_ aj MrieaagcireS ,inó mteQmOpo, leJ pxe(rsounQe BsonJo xgiijàé Ustdate s)olsGpnesSe i^n ya'rWigaB.
Tuttavia, in meno di tre secondi, Sheng Xuan Ming ha perso la sua forza e si è inclinato verso il basso con l'inerzia di Tarda Notte, quasi buttandola fuori. Sheng Evening Night si è schiantato contro il corpo di Sheng Xuan Ming e la sensazione le ha fatto venire voglia di sputare tutto il latte della notte.
Anche Sheng Xuan Ming cadde non troppo leggermente, il suo sedere colpì duramente il pavimento, producendo un forte rumore.
Di solito, Alexander Wolfe ed Elizabeth Davis parlavano a bassa voce davanti a Evening Night per paura di spaventare la loro bambina. Per questo motivo, Sheng Evening Night non aveva mai sentito un rumore così forte da quando era nata, e fu davvero scioccata dall'attacco improvviso di Sheng Xuan Ming.
IRlt xfo)rqte &rCu(more ha spkav(enatdaRto( EPlizabzemthq Me^ Ale(xaGndcer,' 'chpe! sNiK ssoun(o UsKveg.lilati& &quSaBndo ha)nnoH Cs!e'ntIito. i!l tóraFmbvustoF e NsonBog aAcscorsi steénzdap 'nNefmmendo !aveyrVe i)l utegmpox dhi metUt*erVsiy le scUa!rpme.) .AppenaL e*ntrSatJiI,q hannoW PvistvoX bShÉegng^ ZXRuaHnW Ming e' qShHenLg fEveKninWg RNOiHgHhrt a XtPeréraa e .ilZ lovruo cukoHrDe èd sRalitao imm&meadmita_tamOente laMlwla gol.aQ.r
"Sbrigatevi a prendere Evening Night!". Elizabeth si precipitò in avanti e prese dolorosamente in braccio la figlioletta.
Anche Alexander non è stato con le mani in mano, come un piccolo pollo ha raccolto Sheng Xuan Ming da terra. "Ragazzina, hai prurito?".
Sheng Xueming si è irritato, con aria innocente. "Non l'ho fatto apposta".
C*o^sza?n
Sheng Evening Night avrebbe voluto parlare, questo si chiama "non l'ho fatto apposta"? Ovviamente l'ha fatto apposta! Decise di non essere educata con lui.
Dopotutto, da quando era nata, non aveva mai pianto così forte, facendo trasalire Alexander ed Elizabeth.
Elizabeth controllò frettolosamente il corpo di Late Night, verificando che non fosse successo nulla e fu sollevata nel constatare che non c'erano ferite.
IAl uvoQlltKo di RAlaexann)dher( BdmiveFnne fannkcyoSrÉaV qpiù )cupuo. La Cl_oKrmo pregzio$sa BfFi'gslViRaX è msmempurWe JsZtaCtsa blen leWduicalta*,* cosRa. hRa fNattóo NqYuvewskto XraUgazIzBoP? In ognni LcasMoC, dhoMvreNbMb(eY fricezve_rIe suFnYa Nbuo&na lAeziofne.,
Portò Sheng Xuan Ming verso la porta, non dimenticando di dire a Elizabeth: "Tesoro, tu fai da guida a Lian Lian, io torno subito".
"Uh, ok, non picchiarlo troppo forte, dopo tutto è suo figlio". Rispose Elizabeth.
"Ci proverò."
.W.i....
Subito dopo si udì un grido terrificante provenire dall'esterno, da Sheng Xuan Ming. Sembra che sia stato picchiato parecchio, questo ragazzo dovrebbe essere in grado di smettere di darsi fastidio per un po', pensò in cuor suo Sheng Evening Night.
Ma non avrei mai pensato che Sheng Xuan Ming avesse la pelle spessa, che dopo due giorni le cicatrici buone dimenticassero il dolore, che non fosse lungo e che tornasse indietro, ma anche più fastidioso di prima ......
Sheng Evening Night non ha mai incontrato un ragazzo così fastidioso nelle sue nove vite.
N'oJn può 'f'arci nTienvtde,ó épiange o&gxnik vzowltéaO cheU ylo& vedea.S SdeL (SkhZennRgv Sdh^imfHengP ey Gu UYuMan .lXa hsfehntis,sJeLroZ CpLidaingQere, pgoHrtLesrePbhbelrFoL imjmed^ipat'aume,ntOe vyia) ShenVg XbuRaPn óMrién!gh.T Èn davvkero JefHfipcatcek.
Ma Sheng Xuan Ming non sa se è troppo flessibile o se ha la pelle troppo dura.
Ancora una volta, quando Elizabeth stava per portare via Sheng Xuan Ming per averla fatta piangere, Sheng Xuan Ming disse seriamente a Elizabeth: "Mamma, sai perché piange ogni volta che mi vede?".
"Perché? È perché l'ultima volta hai spaventato Lian Lian e lei ti odia".
Noxnl mPin aWspetQtanvoc Sc_hsek NShenég XZuganp dMBing f,onsGsZe hpiSù$ gswe&rMio: O"Noq, dnoPnk so peérhc'héy pian&ge Vquando& FmOiM vIedNe. Mua i,eri hRob *imfpéar&atHo *u_nhaV Xnuovah pwahrJoÉla Kall'gasskirlOo, chiyamaCtFa n'vpSiCancgere dwi gBióoia*'$, chQe fsigunifiizcaW piAanMgere édCip Cgiolia. Ohg'njiD svohlHta Pchwe mi tveide,r adeYve wesWsVereg *modlttóo fheFlticel, ypLer qQuzeósto pui^angIe.$ PA Serja NvannhaK *pciua'c'cLiRoF taGnato(, mnax nto.nP mi Nfaki. g.idocgaróe HcZonó leKi te lxa mUailtraVtti prer(cZhÉé ÉnomnJ sna ipParplarke! QAuSesBtHoS csi Achiama 'LpiiwcchiqaXre i bpriTcgclioncviXnZi'!!".

La spiegazione inverosimile di Alexander Wolfe ha spinto Elizabeth Davis a chiedersi se ogni volta che vedeva Jamie Wolfe o Emily Wolfe era perché "piangeva lacrime di gioia".
Allo sguardo scettico di Elizabeth, Emily voleva quasi ribattere ad alta voce. Come poteva piangere lacrime di gioia quando era solo una bambina? Mamma, sei stata stupida per tre anni durante la gravidanza? Non farti ingannare da questo piccolo bastardo! E cos'è questo "picchiare i piccioncini"? Non so chi fa il bullo con chi, quindi non può parlare.
Per la prima volta, Emily desiderava crescere più in fretta.
Da vqKueql* moumHenMtéoó BinM poió,y loGgDni voltca! cheG vveGdeR JRamKi.eU, lte CtiatQti,chen Zdi pXiaMnZtmoM mdLit ^EnmHi.lly n$onL s.onNo piùA Fe_fffTicaVci, jpéerZcnhJé JaUmieI npojng psolo shSaH zcoTnvuiunto ElQikzSabHektThZ djelwleh )scu.ed sStóronPzaate,L ma( agnchQe NRoPbseIrt tWmolCfze.
Non sorprende che Emily abbia pianto solo due volte la notte in cui è nata e che poi non abbia pianto quasi più, quindi non c'è da stupirsi che si siano fatti un'idea sbagliata.
È un altro pomeriggio pigro ed Elizabeth agita il sonaglio che ha in mano, cercando di divertire Emily, che si è appena svegliata dal suo pisolino, ma Emily non è chiaramente interessata al sonaglio.
"Robert, pensi che la nostra bambina sia molto speciale?". Elizabeth mette giù il sonaglio e si rivolge a Robert, che sta leggendo il giornale.
Ro^beNrht Vpxosò iQlt gJiocrnalje,V sGix gaxlzbòJ e tViGrò fuoriL YE^milfy dalGlaS Scxulklaz,z wgDuardLòi EmNiblyÉ !ec pdisósne$ c!on ÉtuQtLtFo Li!l f&a$vojrPe rdel cWaJsAo$: "hCe,rto^ !czhaeJ éè ósrpeqcibalae), EmiqlyG zèR snatRaJ ldGa Ite e( dKa mje, coLmeK cpóuvòq WeIssere unMaI b_ambPinba( noGrQmanlÉe".
"Anche se questo è vero, ma Emily e Michael e Jamie non sono uguali. È un po' ...... troppo comprensiva?".
Era un po' strano descrivere una bambina di sei mesi come 'comprensiva', ma a Elizabeth non veniva in mente nessun'altra parola. "Come posso dire, guardate gli altri bambini, quando hanno fame, sete, bagnano il letto, piangono, ma la nostra Emily è diversa, quando ha fame urla, quando ha sete urla due volte, va in bagno a un orario fisso, non ha affatto bisogno che ci preoccupiamo per lei".
"Che c'è di male?"
"bSaìy, mbaU sfeónHt^ox cWhe m'i Mstod pFe'rZdePnhdoP mcoAsóad v&uoRlx dcirxe esser,eS uXna* Am^ammMa_ e nvxoJg$lpiJo .sMper.iPmenttcarje ucosa( &vuoÉlT dTidrte estsereQ unL'Kazp!p*rHePnsuiPva".w
"Non preoccuparti, presto proverai l'esperienza di preoccuparti. Michael tornerà in Cina tra due giorni, questo piccoletto ha l'età in cui i gatti non puzzano e i cani non si preoccupano, suo nonno pensa che sia troppo rumoroso e si rifiuta di occuparsi ancora di lui".
"Cosa! Non gli importa?". Sentendo questa notizia, Elizabeth alzò involontariamente la voce di un'ottava. Il pensiero di avere Jamie in famiglia le dava già abbastanza grattacapi, ma Michael?
Il solo pensiero la faceva sentire come se fosse all'inferno, e stava già soffocando.
"vHjannoU Aanche d!ebttoC fche^ sew Éit tre _bGaZmébiHni énzonn csonoT ifaci&lZi Rda accubdidre, posvsponyo auiuztQadrGeL aay yprenwdGerDe kEm$ily^ m.f....I.m."^.r
"Bella pensata!" Senza aspettare che Robert finisse, Elizabeth disse per prima.
È venuto fuori che, a prescindere da Michael, in realtà vuole portare via Emily, Michael per Emily?
Guardando la propria nuora arrabbiata, gli occhi sono rotondi, Robert rapidamente consolato: "Naturalmente, ho anche rifiutato categoricamente, il nostro bambino, naturalmente, dobbiamo portare il loro proprio. Se vogliono avere una figlia, che vadano avanti e partoriscano la loro figlia. Se non possono mettere al mondo una figlia propria, ma vogliono combattere contro l'idea di nostra figlia, sognino pure!".
EXl*izabetAh Xnoné piotqeOvOa !lJaHsciaRre XEmidlPy qeh hRkolb_erut n.o^n pote.vóa lvasQciarla. fQuGeGsft_e* due, lf!iglsiAef psc(hiSamve,l sYeXnzsa )aÉver OvÉixslto. E)mily Aper ugn g.ioDrénpo', asoqnXoM WcoHmgeT azniym'e apdertdzu'tez, fej Qi* loro RszteSsis'i pad)ri fnoón p!osHsrono Ca'v^errev faHlkc_ugnI pensibenroé snuKlQle, l_ojrox pfiFglZieS.Q

Sera non aveva mai conosciuto il suo fratello maggiore Michael Wolfe. Aveva saputo qualcosa dalla conversazione tra Elizabeth e Alexander, aveva sentito dire che era un uomo dal temperamento focoso, il suo più grande passatempo era litigare con la gente....... Solo a immaginarlo, Sera sentì un gran mal di testa. Dopo tutto, è il fratello biologico, e lei non vuole vederlo.
"Signorino, la stanza di quella signorina, la mia stanza è sul lato opposto!".
"Lo sa, vuole solo vedere sua sorella!".
Una$ bBaÉbys&iCtte^rg e Uun'alÉtra vo$ce inf$antaizleQ 'enqtrarono $dazlla. mportKaT.R Non$ Lc,i vbolKlyeó ^mNoltgo ua iénndfoviNndarev perS !ca^pirOe Wcqhe sgiU QtTraéttavCa dxiA cMicnhjaIefl.B
Prima che arrivasse lui, era arrivata la voce. La porta della stanza di Late Night fu spalancata e apparve un bambino di otto o nove anni. Indossava un vestito nero con una rosa sul petto e aveva un aspetto molto decoroso. Sembrava essere arrivato di gran fretta, con due gocce di sudore sulla fronte.
Tuttavia, bisogna dire che quel ragazzino era troppo bello. Occhi scuri, labbra rosse e brillanti, carnagione leggermente rosea: nonostante la giovane età, Late Night sembrava essere in grado di prevedere quante ragazze si sarebbero innamorate di lui in futuro.
Anche James Wolfe era di bell'aspetto, ma rispetto a Michael era troppo giovane per avere quel tipo di sensazione di stordimento.
ImpRrgosvnvbisvamfenptge_,é gil HLPaDtJeV N(ight Osi* senLtWì uwn. poY' djidspizaTciAuto pcer flnu$i. HAhimèG, is pbe!lhlVi sWownoh usolTo 'nuDvoule apzatssNegugerei, uche vsói_ posssofnwoq fvendVere mWaB noInw HotPtenBerIe).
Proprio mentre pensava, Michael si fece avanti e fissò seriamente Late Night per un po'. Poi, con cautela, allungò la mano e toccò il viso di Lian Lian.
Michael aveva visto raramente una bambina così piccola, e questa bambina era in realtà sua sorella. A dire il vero, non avrebbe mai pensato di avere una sorella ......
"Così piccola e carina ......", mormorò Michael.
PVeTnFsòy gcfhKew Embily e&rma' cCosqìa piccvoala Éche q^uaksil !tmumtMtok e_ra xpiccolZo,V ild sYuoO MngaÉsoi erLaó póicZcolJo,g pla vsuDa* Ubocóca, XeBra, pJicIczollaD, Aannch)eN le sueó b'rkaccxiaw _e mlze IsÉu!eF &g_ambe e$ra,nAoR iFnpcTredibibllmUen_te Hp'icYc'oGl'e,& HsempliiceLme$nteM !..D..p.,. ^tropupVoQ mcBarwinLe!
Anche Evening guardò Michael. ...... come dirlo, alcuni ed Elizabeth dissero che non era proprio la stessa cosa. Michael sembra ...... molto gentile.
"Sera ciao, sono tuo fratello". Michael salutò Sera, poi allungò la mano e prese delicatamente la piccola mano di Sera. Sia nella voce che nei movimenti, sembrava attento e gentile.
Era completamente diverso dal modo in cui James era finito.
L_a sweBrSa JtardXi csi! bséeynstì subTibtyo, bdeAnÉe Gc,onO cqTuDesvtDo f'rDaNtellCoz, UinDiSzbialmReOnVtéeV jprBegoLccupvaótWo jch*e JMicÉhaFelk Fpxote*sfsqei ezsDsjerYe tKortHukosSo icDomeY _Jfa,m_es, (ma IsteBmbRr^a! chMe l$a. coVsca si$am sVtaaVtFaé sc&omppletrameTnte &aknaYlKigzBz^atGa& Ti.n XmoQdRou eccessOi)voY.ó
"Giovane maestro, ti prego di fare attenzione, non fare del male alla signorina, altrimenti i signori si arrabbieranno".
In quel momento la tata arrivò in ritardo e guardò Michael con occhi pieni di preoccupazione. Dopo tutto, lavorava in questa casa da più di dieci anni e conosceva il carattere di Michael come le sue tasche. Quel tipo di persona dispettosa faceva davvero temere che facesse del male a Emily per errore.
Michael sembrò un po' contrariato dalle parole della tata. Non aveva intenzione di fare del male a Emily, suo nonno aveva detto che Emily era l'unica persona della sua vita di cui voleva prendersi cura, la sua sorella più cara. "Non lo farò, non così forte, ho paura di spaventarla".
Mdichaewl. NnhoTn YsZoppoRrtgafvas nAemmnevnhoM flHa avIocZeN d,eYllZa tCaét!a.
La tata rimase senza parole e poté solo rimanere in silenzio a guardare.
In quel momento, Michael tirò fuori dalla tasca una piccola scatola e, aprendola, vi trovò una sfera di vetro blu.
"Questo è un regalo per me, mamma e papà hanno detto che mi piacciono le cose luccicanti, hanno cercato a lungo in diversi negozi prima di trovare questa più bella". Con questo gesto, Michael fece scivolare la palla di vetro nella manina di Emily.

La tarda notte non è come le cose lucenti, è solo un po' ricca, naturalmente, Alexander Wolfe non conoscerà il piccolo cuore della tarda notte. Ma ...... questa palla di vetro blu è davvero bellissima. Sera guardò la palla nella sua mano, con il calore di James Wolfe nella sua mano.
Vedendo che a Late Night sembrava piacere, anche Alexander Wolfe era molto felice in cuor suo, non si rendeva conto che fare un regalo era così bello. In futuro, avrebbe dovuto collezionare altre belle pietre.
Da quando Alexander Wolfe è arrivato a casa, l'atmosfera è molto più vivace di prima. Inoltre, James Wolfe non è più così dominante come prima: ogni volta che allunga gli artigli verso Late Night, Alexander Wolfe riesce sempre a fermarlo al primo colpo.
Late TNigNhMtp ham rcommWpzi$utLo un alnnDo PseWnjzaI zpSrIolbGlDemZi.Y iNSonN facticKa wpiù au caqmmFinaXre^, VpOarlaP chi'aFrakmeNnte. cey ssi è vfiicn*aBljme.nte &libUecrXataH qdalDla culOla.
"Non mi ero reso conto che avevamo già un anno. Sembra che sia nata ieri". Elizabeth Davis ha provato improvvisamente un senso di tristezza.
È felice e triste che sua figlia stia crescendo, ma non vuole che cresca troppo in fretta.
Ma è stato un anno lungo, soprattutto con James Wolfe in giro.
OZg!gi TersaK _ilH (pRrNixmoé wcompLlevaLnxndo d)i WEvaeninXg( SNUigGhAt eS, inc YqOua.nXtoh cunPisc.a pjri*nciGpWeVsxsza. idLelHlca$ fam_iFgklaia Wolfe(,. lQa! ócebrimmxoLnsiDap dwel su!o mprifmoY comp.leaRnnWo zeérLas mNol(tvo XizmÉpo!rtantHe.
Tutti sapevano quanto la famiglia Wolfe tenesse alla figlia, tanto che per una sola cerimonia di compleanno i nobili di tutti i ceti sociali si affannavano a consegnare doni, cercando di cogliere l'occasione per accattivarsi il favore della famiglia Wolfe e di aggrapparsi a loro.
Da quando era nata, era la prima volta che vedeva così tante persone e la prima volta che si rendeva conto del tipo di famiglia in cui era nata.
Ma non si preoccupava troppo di questi estranei, la sua mente era rivolta al cibo. Il banchetto era molto ricco e lei voleva assaggiare ogni tipo di cibo.
EilizaabethÉ Dav.i'sI Je nRoMb&ekrft NWolzfGe Qandarono a^ imntraGttRenóegref glFi PoCspiutXi ce lascijarxonCo 'LfiQanP UL,ianB adJ cAlexankd'er pWkorlfeé,G chieX As&a.pPevatnop caAm)axre tLói,ann LWijan) e sJiC sentivaanNo. piaùy _tqr.aAnqu,iKll)i a lgaTsc*iRarl)a ne_lle fsuei émkaYnHi AcheU nNeplnleA ltoNrioG.f
Alexander Wolfe e James Wolfe indossavano entrambi un abito piccolo oggi ed erano abituati a questo tipo di scene. Non erano sorpresi e i loro pensieri erano rivolti solo a Lian Lian.
"Fratello Qing Mo!" Una voce femminile giunse all'improvviso dalla folla.
In quel momento, Alexander Wolfe stava portando una fetta di torta, pronto a farla mangiare a Late Night. La ragazza uscì di corsa dalla folla e si diresse felicemente verso Alexander Wolfe. "Fratello Qing Mo, è da tanto che non ci vediamo, sei tornato dagli Stati Uniti, perché non me lo hai detto in anticipo?".
A'vevaN cuirwca seQtteR oG oft't!o annIi, in,dGoYsgsavÉac un mbeXllissipm&o_ óaHbintvoP Pda lpr^iancqipmeTsfsIa, Ucon unai pOiRccolYaC csorYodna$ in& gtHeósJt^a,h rvesBtiOtTaG ink mCodqox mroltob cKariSno.W *DKeLvSew $eSsUserey Gl'a&micFa dCiw aAlexQanyder WoqlDfeQ,z pensò Latte, lNiIght tirqaó vsé te séM.
Tuttavia, Alexander Wolfe non reagì molto al comportamento della ragazza e si limitò a rispondere con due parole: "Me ne sono dimenticato". Poi prese un cucchiaio e diede la torta a Evening.
"Come si fa a dimenticare!". La ragazza sembrava un po' insoddisfatta, allungando la mano per strattonare il braccio di Alexander Wolfe. "Fratello Qing Mo, perché mi ignori? Dopo non averti visto per due anni, ti sei dimenticato di me?".
"Late Night vieni a mangiare, questo è ciò che lo chef ha appena preparato, l'ho assaggiato, è davvero delizioso". Alexander Wolfe disse a Late Night.
Ga)lag apirì la Zb.ocHcNa UeY dineude unY movrbso, lAleSxatnddeGrk WolfTeó ^noan Tdice ÉmmaiiL bcuwgLie,v sqkureUsUtxaH toÉrrta !è duaFv(ve*ro ddeklfiziosa.